


Beggin' For Thread

by buckybarfs



Series: Words [8]
Category: Avengers, Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Bruce and OFC friendship, Bucky Feels, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint and OFC friendship, F/M, Muslim Original Character, OC isn't afraid to speak her mind, OFC wears a hijab, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers x Muslim character, if you don't like it I don't care, not civil war compliant, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:34:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9555215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarfs/pseuds/buckybarfs
Summary: “Beggin’ For Thread.” A’isha said as she continued to hand stitch the logo she was working on.Steve whirled around, he was unaware there was another person in the room. “Pardon?”“The song. It's called Beggin’ For Thread.”





	1. Muslin Is A Fabric

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the Steve installment to my Soulmate series. You may have noticed none of them are complete. Well that would be because I've decided to write them as I go because that seems to be the way that works for me.  
> I've done as much research as I can into Islam and will continue to do so. I hope I do the beautiful religion justice. If you have a problem with it well, don't read the story.  
> This story was inspired by the incredible Captain America cosplay done by Hijabi Hooligan Cosplay! Check her out!

_“Beggin’ For Thread.” A’isha said as she continued to hand stitch the logo she was working on._  
_Steve whirled around, he was unaware there was another person in the room. “Pardon?”_  
_“The song. It's called Beggin’ For Thread.”_

* * *

 

_“What're you gawping at?” Sneered a woman Clint had never seen before. She wasn't in a typical S.H.I.E.L.D uniform, instead she was in a simple pair of jeans, an oversized hoodie and a headscarf._

_“Where am I?” He asked the woman._  
  
_“My office.”_

_“Okay, but what do you do?”_

_“I'm a seamstress.”_

_“I didn't even know S.H.I.E.L.D had seamstresses.”_

* * *

 

_Since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D A'isha had found herself struggling to find work. That is until Clint had tracked her down and demanded she work for The Avengers. While she loved her current menial gig at the theatre making costumes for productions she found herself longing for something more. So when Clint presented the opportunity she jumped at it._

_“How've you guys survived without me? Who makes your uniforms? Who stitches up the bullet holes? Who washes out the blood? Who makes sure you guys look good?” The questions had poured out of her faster than the older man could answer._

_“Relax. We've gotten by. But it'll be nice to have you back.”_

_“Most of you don’t even know I exist.” She had mumbled as she nervously fiddled with her headscarf._

* * *

 

“What are you doing?” Clint asked, his eyes wide as he clutched at his ears trying to block out the noise of fabric being torn.

A'isha rolled her eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. “If you must know, I’m tearing the fabric down to size.”

The archer stared at her, confusion written on his face. “Why don’t you just cut it?”

For a minute the woman paused, he made a good point. She could just cut it. “This is more fun.” She said simply.

“What’re you making?” Clint asked as he walked over to an unsuspecting locker style cabinet. He pulled it open and moved aside several boxes of sewing material to unveil the treasure behind; endless rows of snacks. He pulled out an unopened pack of chips ahoy cookies before flopping down onto one of the vintage couches in the womans workspace.

“Wanda still doesn’t have a uniform.”

“So that flimsy fabric is supposed to keep her safe?” He scoffed, sending cookie crumbs everywhere.

“It's muslin, I'm using it for a mock up before I use good fabric.” She replied with a sigh.

“Speaking of muslin it's almost noon should I leave?” Clint asked as he picked up the cookie crumbs and moved to stand.

“ _Muslin_ is a _fabric_ you moron. I’m a _Muslim_.” A’isha groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Well yeah, but it reminded me.” The man replied sheepishly as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“No, you don't need to go.”

“Oh, so it's that time of month?” Clint asked cheekily as he flopped back onto the couch.

His only answer was a pin cushion being hurled in his direction.

* * *

 

Steve stared at the bloodstained and torn uniform he had worn into battle so many times before, now it lay in a trunk under his bed along with several gadgets that he and the commandos had used. It had begun to smell, the blood polluting the air around him. The uniform could stand to be cleaned, but admittedly it was hard to find a cleaner that would respect the historical item and be able to fix the uniform to its full potential.

With a sigh he set it back into the trunk and closed the lid before locking it and shoving back under the bed. One day.

* * *

 

Despite having been at the facility for three months A’isha hadn't met any of the other Avengers besides Clint. However, she had gotten a head nod from Natasha when the spy had picked up her uniform from her office. Normally the uniforms were delivered to their doors but they had gotten called on a last minute mission and the spy had to pick it up herself.

In all meanings of the word A’isha was invisible. In public people often did everything in their power to avoid looking at her and at work nobody knew she existed. Clint had explained to her once that everybody seemed to think Tony's robots made their uniforms. While that wasn't completely untrue because the genius and his robots created the tech to go along with the uniforms she made, the robots themselves did not create the uniforms.

Today A’isha would be recognized, a month ago she had submitted a letter to Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark stating that she had an idea for a new fabric but needed their assistance in creating it as she wasn't a scientist. Three days ago she had received a memo saying the meeting had been approved and today was the day the meeting had been set for.

So ten minutes before four the young woman left her workspace to head to the lab she had been told to go to. At 3:57pm she raised her hand to knock on the doorway to the lab, butterflies swimming in her stomach. But before she could knock the door flew open to reveal a rather frazzled Tony Stark.

“I have a meeting with-” She had started saying before she was interrupted by the man in front of her.

“You’re mistaken I don't have any meetings I had FRIDAY clear my schedule. Now if you'll excuse me I have somewhere to be.” He stated huffily before pushing past her and rushing down the hall.

A’isha stood shocked in front of the now closed door with her fist still raised. Her mouth hung open as she blinked rapidly trying to understand what had just happened. Maybe today she wouldn't be recognized. Her existence would continue to fly under the radar for the next however many days, weeks, or months until she could get another meeting.

The door opened again, pulling her out of her thoughts and causing her to quickly drop her hand and close her mouth in embarrassment. Before her stood Dr. Bruce Banner with a soft smile on his face.

“Miss Attia?” He asked gently as he studied the woman before him.

“Oh, uh, hello Dr. Banner.” She murmured nervously, avoiding the mans curious gaze.

“I believe we have a meeting?”

“Oh, yes! Yes! We do! I'm sorry but I thought Mr. Stark was supposed to be here too?” She asked, stumbling over her words.

“There was an emergency with his daughter.” Bruce said nonchalantly with a small shrug.

“Oh.” A’isha said dumbly as she continued to stare at the ground.

“So shall we?” Dr. Banner asked smoothly.

“Shall we what?”

“We have a meeting.” He replied.

She blinked slowly before looking up and making eye contact with the man, he had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he held the door open for her to come in.

“Right. The meeting.” She mumbled as she stepped into the lab.

 


	2. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A'isha has to do something she doesn't like to do and Steve forgets something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I hope I don't offend anyone with some of dialogue in this chapter. I just want to give some insight into how people regard A'isha and how she thinks of them!

A’isha strutted to the kitchen in search of Clint, a bounce in her step. Her meeting with Dr. Banner had gone well and had resulted in the two actually becoming friends. She was on top of the world and right now nothing could bring her down.

“Well look at you. Strutting around here like you own the place.” Clint said casually as he pulled the top off of the beer he had been holding and moved to stand at the bar counter.

“My meeting went well. If all goes well your team doctors might be out of business.” She said with a dreamy smile.

“Now why would you want to put some hard working Americans out of work?” The man joked.

“You know us immigrants. We hate America.” A’isha replied with a wink.

“Aren't you American born?”

“As far as random old white men on the street are concerned we’re all immigrants.” A’isha said with a roll of her eyes.

“God bless the USA.” Clint muttered under his breath.

“Land of the free.” The girl said with a smirk.

“Alright, we should knock if off before cap hears us. Now what do you mean put them out of work?” Clint asked as he leaned over the counter to get closer to the woman.

“Well I've come up with a way to make a chainmail type fabric that is flexible and also bulletproof. You all get stabbed and shot so much I thought you might appreciate a break.” She said wryly as she poured herself a glass of water.

“I for one am ecstatic at the idea of never be stabbed or shot again.” Came Natasha's voice as she stepped out from around the corner and into the kitchen.

A’isha nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden addition of another voice. “Well it's just an idea at this point. Bruce and I just started working on it.” The girl mumbled as she looked down, suddenly terrified of the new addition.

“It's a great idea. I don't know why nobody has thought of it before. Kevlar isn't exactly the safest thing.” Natasha said with a shrug as she pulled a beer out of the fridge. “Want one?”

“Uh, no thank you. I don't drink.” A’isha answered uneasily.

“Is it because of your religion?” The redhead asked curiously as she cocked her head at the woman.

“It's my own choice.” The girl answered, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“Just trying to get a feel for you.” The spy responded before waltzing out of the room.

* * *

 

Steve woke up gasping for breath, his dreams were haunted by the ice and Bucky. He sat up and shakily reached for the glass of water beside his bed, his clammy hands causing him to drop it. He swore under his breath before getting up to clean the mess.

As he cleaned he desperately tried to think of anything but the thought of Bucky falling. He needed a distraction, he needed something.

After disposing of the broken glass in the trash he decided to go for a walk around the compound. In the distance he could hear the sound of music playing, while he couldn't hear the exact words he found himself humming along to the beat of the song. He could hear someone singing along and it had him intrigued, he wondered who could be awake at this hour. The voice resonated within him and he continued to walk around the compound but now with intent to find the voice. He wandered in a daze for nearly an hour before he stumbled into an area he had never seen before.

The super soldier peered into a doorway, his eyes were met with what looked like an empty room but he could hear music playing and the same soft voice coming from the room. As hard as he looked he couldn't find anyone in the room at least from the doorway. He slowly stepped into the room, looking for the voice, yet as he stepped into the room the voice stopped.

The song had been playing on repeat for nearly the entire hour of his wandering, now in the room he could actually hear the lyrics. He continued to look around the room, searching for the voice that had been singing along, while continuing to hum to the catchy song.

Just as Steve began to think he had imagined the voice he heard it again, but this time it was speaking to him.

“Beggin’ for thread.” A’isha said as she continued to hand stitch the logo she was working on.

Steve whirled around, he was unaware there was another person in the room. “Pardon?”

“The song. It's called Beggin’ For Thread.”

He blinked, his eyes heavy as the fog that had clouded his mind from the minute he heard the voice disappeared. The only thing resonating in his mind was those words. The words that had mysteriously appeared on his skin the second he woke up from the ice.

“Wait, you're-” Steve started to say before he was cut off.

“Go back to bed. In the morning you won't remember meeting me.” The girl ordered in a sing song voice.

Steve blinked in confusion before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

A’isha sighed, “I hate doing that.” She leaned back against the wall and rubbed at her eyes before setting aside her project.

* * *

Steve awoke with a headache. As he sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed he let out a loud groan. He buried his face in his hands and let out another groan before flopping onto his back.

“You're awake.” Bucky stated from the doorway.

The blonde haired man sat up again slowly, his eyes still pinched shut. He rubbed at his forehead before opening his eyes to look at his long term friend.

“When did you get there?” He asked as he shakily got to his feet.

Bucky shrugged before answering, “I heard you starting to stir so I came in.”

“How'd you manage to sneak up on me?”

“Wasn't very hard. You seem pretty out of it.” The dark haired man said before turning to leave the room. “I made you pancakes.” He shouted over his shoulder as he walked away.

Perhaps pancakes would help Steve’s headache. As he followed Bucky to the kitchen he hummed an unfamiliar tune under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my other stories are super slow-burn(this one won't be that different) but I decided to make this one slightly different. I hope you're enjoying this story thus far.


	3. Astaghfirullah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A'isha's pants are really white and Steve feels like his head will explode if he thinks about the strange girl anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! In this chapter A'isha explains some things pertaining to her views(the result of me spending hours googling things hoping to do Islam justice) if I get anything wrong please inform me!

“Let's go shopping.”

“What?” A’isha said her head shooting up in surprise at the voice that suddenly appeared from beside her. She threw her hands over her long brown waves in a shocked attempt to cover them up.

“Shopping.” Natasha explained.

“How did you get there?” The tan woman asked in confusion as she fiddled with putting on her scarf.

“I walked.”

“Alright.” Exasperation rang in the woman's voice as she realized her question about the woman's sudden appearance wasn't going to be answered.

“So was that a yes?”

“Why?”

“I need new clothes and I figured it would be nice to get to know you.”

“Alright.” A’isha agreed slowly, she was still confused but she wasn't about to argue with the Black Widow.

Without another word Natasha turned on her heel and strolled out of the room, A’isha hesitated for a moment before realizing she was supposed to follow. The woman grabbed her purse and hurried to catch up with the smaller woman who was quickly walking down the hall.

Panic coursed through her veins as she heard a man's voice humming a familiar song.

“Would you stop humming?” Bucky growled as he crossed his arms in annoyance and considered ripping out his best friends voice box.

“It's stuck in my head.” Steve whined.

“What even is that?”

“I don't know.”

“So you have a song stuck in your head and you have no idea what it is?”

“Yep.”

“Where did you hear it?”

“I don't know.”

“I hate you.” Bucky grumbled as he continued to stomp down the hall.

Steve chuckled as he strolled behind his friend, the re walked past Natasha and a strange girl. The super soldier took a second to analyze the woman, she almost looked familiar but at the same time looking at her made his head hurt. It wasn't often that his memory failed him and this perplexed the man.

“Do I know you?” Steve asked, cocking his head as he stopped in the middle of the hallway, blocking Natasha and A’isha from leaving.

“I don't think so.” A’isha said casually, hoping that by not giving a flat out no it would be more convincing.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure I’d remember meeting Captain America.” The hijabi joked as she began to fiddle with her headscarf, a nervous habit she had developed as a teen.

“I'm sure Stevie would remember meeting someone with a face as pretty as yours.” Bucky said slyly as he slid his arm around his friend. Apparently after realizing that Steve has stopped walking Bucky doubled back to find his friend.

A’isha simply laughed nervously in response.

“So where are you two off to?” Steve asked Natasha as he curiously side eyed the strange woman by her side. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had met her before. His head hurt thinking about it but he continued to attempt to push back and find out who she was.

“Oh no, no boys allowed. Come on.” The spy growled as she grabbed onto her new friends arm and dragged her down the hall.

* * *

For the first several minutes in the car Natasha remained silent, her silence was broken as she asked A’isha a question.

“What?” A’isha asked as she was brought out of her daze. Since she had commanded Steve to forget her she had been wrapped up in thoughts about him, and for some reason the word on her ankle ached at the thought of him. She briefly wondered if she had screwed up in a way she couldn't bounce back from.

“Did I make you uncomfortable earlier when I snuck up on you without your scarf?” The spy repeated, her tone was slightly harsh, it came off as more of a demand than a question but her words showed that she meant well.

“Not really, I was just shocked at first. There's an age old argument about whether it's haram to uncover in front of a kafir woman. I was raised in a household where all women are seen as family so it was never a problem. However, if say, Clint, had walked in it would be haram because he is a non-mahram man. The only problem with you would be if you decided to tell everyone what I look like without my hijab.” The woman tried to explain as she began to fiddle with the rings on her hands.

“I'm good at keeping secrets.” Natasha said with a small smirk.

“Thank you.” A’isha said softly as she began to relax in her seat.

“So, what is non-marham?”

“A mahram man is a man who can see me without my scarf because he is either family, or my husband. If I was married my husband's family would become mahrams as well.”

“Gotcha. But I'll knock next time.”

“Thank you, Natasha.” The woman said with a smile as she smoothed nonexistent wrinkles in her white pants.

Natasha had many more questions she wanted to ask the girl, however she restrained herself. She had read up on Islam after meeting the woman but wanted to ask her questions directly to see what her point of view on things were.

“Why was Steve acting so weird around you?” Well, she had managed to hold back most of her questions.

A’isha blinked in surprise, she had heard that Natasha was incredibly sneaky and could extract information without you even knowing. Either this was a tactic or the woman was showing A’isha that she was comfortable enough around her to be blunt. “‘Maybe he's never seen a Muslim before.” Was her simple reply that was followed with a shrug.

“Did they not exist in the 40s?” The spy asked, her eyebrow was raised and her tone was sarcastic.

“They weren't as common as they are now. However they did exist.”

The rest of the ride was silent.

Natasha and A’isha arrived in one piece at the mall. Although in A’isha opinion the other woman's driving left much to be desired, she constantly drove like she was on the run, which maybe she was.

“So where do you like to shop?” Natasha queried as she looked sideways at the slightly taller woman.

“I'm not sure, I don't often leave the compound, I typically shop online.” A’isha confessed as she began to smooth the folded sleeve of her denim dress. The dress went to her knees and had sleeves that went down to just above her wrists, today she had rolled and unrolled her sleeves at least three times.

The redheaded spy eyed the woman in an attempt to figure out where they should shop. “There's a Starbucks right here let's get coffee then go to Forever 21, they have good basics.”

As Natasha watched A’isha spill her freshly made coffee she wondered just how she managed to keep her white pants so white while still being so klutzy.

“I'm so, so sorry.” The shy woman blubbered as she used a napkin to wipe up the tiny bit of coffee that had spilled onto the counter. The barista assured her it was fine and with that Natasha dragged the still apologizing A’isha away.

As the two meandered towards Forever 21 and sipped their coffees A’isha found herself dying from the silence. Though she was often shy and timid she craved conversation, especially with another woman. She found herself really praying that she and Natasha could be friends because she found it nice to be around another woman who wasn't just asking her when she was going to get married.

“Is the iced white chocolate mocha good? I've never had it.”

Natasha thought for a moment, “I like it,” she then paused before holding out her drink and continuing, “You try mine I try yours?”

As a reply A’isha took the cup from the woman's hand and handed her the Iced Caramel Macchiato she had ordered. In sync both women took sips and made thinking faces as they tried to decide if they liked the others drink.

“Not bad.” A’isha said casually as she handed Natasha her drink back.

“The Caramel Macchiato is good and I like the way you say caramel. Clint says it wrong.”

“Right?” Squeaked A’isha before she began mocking the archer, “‘Carmel. Caaaarmell.’ Astaghfirullah, it's carAmel.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to picture Natasha as someone who deep down just wants a friend. Also if there is anything you'd like to see happen in this story please comment! (Ex. A Chapter from Steve's POV or Natasha's or a certain experience!)


	4. I Think I Saw You In My Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A'isha gets exactly what she wants, and it sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to why A'isha is trying so hard to keep Steve away?

Steve rolled over and groaned, he had barely gotten any sleep these last few days, the headache he had woken up with a week ago still lingered and kept getting worse. It was getting to the point where Bucky was being a mother hen and insisting he go to the oncall doctor to get it checked out.

So to appease his long term friend he had gone, and to his own frustration, they found nothing. No explanation as to why he was feeling this way and it made him mad.

Tonight he had been getting a decent sleep until he dreamt of the girl Nat had been with, once her face appeared in his dreams he felt like he got hit by a bus. The pain in his head made him jump awake, it was so severe he had to sit on the edge of his bed and catch his breath. Yet after all that he still couldn't figure out why she was familiar, a part of him screamed that he knew her. But the rest of him told him he definitely did not. The first part felt real, the second part felt wrong, like it was implanted there.

The more he thought about it the more annoyed he got, so instead of laying down and thinking about it more he crept out of his room in he and Buckys shared apartment with all intents to wander, walking always cleared his head. Instead he left him room to find Bucky leaning against the kitchen counter drinking a glass of water.

“Hey Buck.” He mumbled, exhaustion apparent in his voice.

“Jesus, you look like hell. Did you get any sleep?” Asked the dark haired man as he evaluated his long term friend.

“Not really.”

After a few minutes of the two standing in silence Steve spoke up once more.

“Hey Buck?" He started hesitantly. "Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, punk.” He threw the word onto the end of the sentence as a form of endearment, to show Steve he was on his side.

“What did it feel like? Seeing me again? You know.” He trailed off awkwardly.

Bucky stayed silent for a minute before he replied, “Right. But wrong. Like I should know who you were and a part of me told me I knew you, the other part said I didn't, but it didn't feel right. It didn't feel like myself saying that it-”

“It felt like somebody else put that part into your head.” Steve finished.

“What's wrong? Are you okay?” Bucky was immediately worried again, slipping into mother hen mode.

“That girl that Natasha was with. She seems so familiar but I can't figure out how.”

“My advice? Listen to what feels right.” Replied his friend as he strolled towards Steve, stopping to pat him on the shoulder before continuing to his room and calling out goodnight.

The blonde soldier did the only thing he could think to do, he went for a walk. His feet leading him to unfamiliar places, yet somehow they felt familiar, his headache grew stronger. He could hear music in the distance, it was nearly drowned out by the sound of his head throbbing.

“I think I saw you in my sleep, darling, I think I saw you in my dreams, You were stitching up the seams.” Sang a soft voice. The voice cutting through all the noise in his head causing a small voice in the back of his head yelling yes! Yes! So he kept going despite how debilitating his headache was becoming. He held onto the wall as he slowly stumbled closer to the door, he couldn't hear the music anymore, the pounding in his head too loud. Every fiber of his being told him to turn back now, to leave, to never come back, to just forget, but that little voice kept him going. His breath came out in labored pants as he tried to get to the door, his vision went blurry, the door being distorted as threw what last little bit of energy he had into lunging for the door.

* * *

A’isha hardly jumped at the sound of a thud on her door, she let out a loud groan as she slowly clambered to her feet. “This would be a lot easier on you if you just gave up!” She hissed in annoyance as she ripped her door open to see a passed out Steve Rogers laying on the floor.

With a sigh she squatted beside him to check his pulse, after listening for a moment she decided he was in a deep sleep. “You will wake up refreshed, feeling better than you have in a long time, and you will forget this. You will no longer pursue this. When you see my face again it will be unfamiliar.”

After letting her words sink in she called the one person she knew she could count on, no questions asked.

“Why is there a passed out Captain America in front of your door?” Clint asked as he eyed the sleeping man.

Maybe not.

“I don't know,” she started, pinching the bridge of  
her nose as she looked down, now she had a headache, “I just heard a thud and came out and there he was.”

“He likes to walk at night, and I know he hasn't been sleeping. I guess he just finally passed out from exhaustion.” Clint explained, though he didn't exactly sound like he believed it.

“Can you get him out of here? Please?”

“I'm not strong enough for that, I'll have to call for backup.”

* * *

Bucky was decidedly not happy to be woken up after finally getting to sleep, but once Clint said it was about Steve all negative feelings flew out the window, replaced with worry.

“Is he okay?” Bucky asked frantically as he ran up to Clint and dropped to his knees to check his friends pulse.

“He's fine. I guess he went for a walk and passed out from exhaustion.” Clint said with a shrug.

“You don't see me.” A’isha murmured to Bucky as she stepped out of her office to stand behind the man. Bucky stared at his friend, showing no signs of having seen the girl that now stood behind him.

“When you look at the door it will say-”

“Johnny Edwards Accountant?” Bucky read from the nameplate on the door. “What the hell was Steve doing over here?”

“Maybe he hoped an accountant would bore him to sleep.” Clint offered.

“Right.” Bucky said, suspicion rang in his voice. Before heaving his friend over his shoulder he glanced at the plaque once more, it was fuzzy and almost didn't seem real but he decided it was because he hadn't slept yet.

“When Steve wakes up you will tell him exactly what Clint told you, and then you will both go on with your lives.” A’isha said slowly as she looked into Bucky’s eyes, the man seeming to stare right through her.

After that Bucky walked right back to their apartment without a word and with Steve still tossed over his shoulder.

“I don't think that was a good idea.” The archer mumbled nervously.

“If you breathe a word to this I'll show everyone the picture of you trying on Nats suit.” A’isha hissed as she reached for her door.

“Hey, no fair. You told me you needed to test how the material stretched.” Clint pouted.

“I did but I also wanted a picture of you in a black widow suit.” Replied the girl with a smug grin.

“What about you know who?” Clint asked, he referenced FRIDAY.

“I found out how to mute my voice to her. She won't know a thing. Goodnight Clint.” With that she disappeared back into her office leaving Clint to head back to bed with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

Steve woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and energized, he actually woke up early enough to go on his 5 o’clock run that he had been skipping the last few weeks. He felt better than he had in a long time and he couldn't figure out why but he decided to go with it. Later that morning Bucky explained finding him in the hall which caused Steve's cheeks to flush with embarrassment.

“I'm so sorry.” He apologized for the third time.

“It was funny and I plan to tell everyone.” Bucky said gleefully as he ran out the door.

Steve simply groaned loudly in protest.

* * *

A’isha and Natasha were on their way to leave the compound when she saw him. The two had stopped right in front of A’isha’s car to observe the couple.

Steve was chatting up Sharon Carter, a goofy smile on his face and a sly smile on her face that just said ‘fuck me.’ In that moment A’isha felt her ankle burn, the words that had appeared on her skin only a few years ago aching as she watched the two interact.

“They're cute together, huh?” Natasha whispered smugly into her friend's ear.

“They're perfect.” A’isha said softly, feeling tears spring to her eyes.

Her ipod starting play as she quickly slid into her car and turned the key in the ignition to avoid seeing anymore.

‘I thought I heard a plane crashing, but now I think it was your passion snapping.’

The song she had been playing on repeat last night poured through the speakers causing her to take a deep breath to ground herself.

* * *

Steve could vaguely hear a familiar tune in the background, but he couldn't place it. So, he decided to pay no mind to it and instead focus on the pretty dame in front of him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEEDBACK! I live off of it.


	5. Waffle Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vision gets a crash cooking course and Steve gets fed like a prized pig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? It's me. Hey y'all! Have some fluff to make up for my absence. (Waits for tomatoes to be thrown.)

It had been a peaceful three weeks without a single visit from her late night friend. It was almost lonely, part of her wished Steve would walk through her door with that same clueless look on his face that he had the first night. She knew she had irreparably ruined things if she ever did come clean, as people tended not to respond well to mind control. 

 

She had since seen Steve a few times, each time she was consumed by guilt for manipulating him like that. She wanted to confess to him, even though she knew it wouldn’t fix anything. She wished she had never done it in the first place.

 

However, she also knew that Captain America couldn’t have her as a soulmate.

 

The world had changed a lot since he had gone under, but one thing was still the same. Racism was alive and well. While their good Captain had never shown any signs of being a racist himself the rest of the world had never been quite as progressive as him. Frankly, she was afraid, terrified actually.

 

She was comfortable with who she was, she was happy being who she was. She loved her religion and she loved her culture, it was the rest of the world that she worried would have problems. 

 

Her family had never pressured her into wearing a hijab, she had made the choice on her own. Yet the world assumed she wore it out of fear, forced to by her ‘oppressive’ culture. She smiled dazedly as she remembered when she first adopted wearing the scarf. 

 

_ “Are you sure you’re ready? This is a big deal, it’s not simply an accessory, Ayat. ”  Her mother crooned, stroking her child’s unruly hair. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.” _

 

_ “Yes!” The nine year old squealed, bouncing in her spot.  _

 

_ Her mother gently handed her a folded lilac scarf, worry in her eyes as the child ran to the nearest mirror to begin putting it on as she had seen her mother do for years.  _

 

_ Three days later she had come home from school crying, holding a muddy purple scarf. “I never want to wear that dumb thing again! It’s awful! I hate it!” She screamed before dropping to the floor and sobbing.  _

 

_ “A’isha!” Her mother shouted sternly, frowning at the sobbing child.  _

 

_ The little girl froze at her mother’s usage of her first name, she was typically called by her given nickname ‘Ayat’ by her family. She knew she was in trouble. _

 

_ “What happened?” The woman asked, squatting down beside her daughter.  _

 

_ “They told me to go back where I came from and took my scarf.” She whimpered, sniffling and wiping her runny nose on her sleeve. _

 

_ Her mother sighed, “You were born here, you have just as much a right to be here as they do.”  _

 

_ She didn’t wear a hijab for six years after that, deciding she couldn’t handle the stigma that came with it. When she was fifteen, she adopted it again. This time as an act of rebellion against those who praised her of ‘breaking free from her oppressive religion’.  Her decision to wear her scarf had been her’s alone and the second time, her mother had known she was ready.  _

 

She had gone into autopilot as she reminisced, her hands stitching without any actual direction. She glanced down at her work as she accidentally poked her thumb with the needle. A’isha had been embroidering a design on the edge of a baby blanket for her friend. She frowned at the blanket, it represented too much.

 

She was tired, she needed to go to bed before she started over thinking. Her mind was already beginning to race with thoughts of marriage and babies. That simply wouldn’t do right now.

* * *

 

By seven AM she had already done her Fajr prayer, showered, and dressed for the day. She was always up before nearly everyone else in the compound, something she enjoyed. The Avengers scared her, terrified her actually. Her morning prayer made it easy for her to avoid them as not many of them woke before sunrise. 

 

She technically had an on base staff kitchen right by her room, however, she disliked it. Some of her co-workers were rude to her and nobody respected her right to not share her food. The Avengers kitchen was a four minute walk from her room and was always stocked. It was usually empty and nobody touched labeled food. It had become somewhat of a Utopia for her.

 

Clint had given her unchaperoned access to the kitchen after two weeks straight of her co-workers eating all her food and leaving nothing but pork products in the fridge. He had half a mind to go over there and fire them all, but A’isha decided being the only non-Avenger allowed to use the kitchen without an escort was good enough payback. 

 

On her way out of her room, she grabbed her notebook, she used it to write down ideas for patterns and anything else concerning handcrafts. She was walking down the hall anxiously scribbling down some pattern modifications when she bumped into someone. 

 

“Rahimakallah!” She immediately wanted to smack herself after the phrase escaped her lips. It was an old habit she had developed as a child, to bless people when she bumped into them or when they tripped. Even when people coughed she tended to do it.

 

“Uh, pardon?” 

 

She wanted to scream, was Steve capable of saying anything other than the word scrawled on her ankle? Being around him made her heart race and frankly, he made her nervous.

 

“It was the equivalent of ‘bless you.’” She mumbled shuffling awkwardly in her spot as she nervously ran her hands over the spine of her notebook. He didn’t know who she was, as far as he knew she was just some girl that hung around Clint and Natasha. 

 

Steve blinked at her. “But, I didn’t sneeze?” He cocked his head in confusion, trying to understand what exactly had just happened.

 

“I’m aware. It kind of just slipped out.” She shrugged. 

 

The man changed the subject, “Are you authorized for this area?” There was a hint of worry in his voice.

 

She sighed and pushed open the door to the kitchen. “ _ Hello, Miss Attia, Mr Rogers.” _ Friday chirped as the two stepped into the kitchen. The two were met with Vision floating around the kitchen, batter on the counters and smoke coming from a waffle machine. 

 

“Ya Allah,  _ what _ are you doing?” 

 

The Android looked up, a confused expression on his red face. “I decided to make breakfast.”

 

“That waffle is a few seconds away from bursting into flames.” She said a little too calmly, simply sighing in the direction of the waffle iron. 

 

Vision floated over to the machine and opened it, revealing a charred black mass of what had been a waffle. He frowned, “I do not understand, I followed the directions.”

 

She stepped into the kitchen and picked up one of six spoons that was sinking into the bowl of batter, sticking her tongue out to taste it. Her face wrinkled as she dropped the bowl into the sink. “Hate to break it to you, but cooking is a lot about using sight, smell, and taste. There’s a lot of factors that goes into cooking. How much baking soda you use depends on the altitude you’re at, sometimes your oven isn’t as strong as someone else’s, and sometimes other people just have weird taste buds.” 

 

The girl started cleaning up the mess the android had made, causing him to frown. Clearly he was displeased that something like cooking didn’t come easily to him. “It was a nice idea, Vision, maybe consider cooking classes.”

 

“I just wanted to make breakfast for the team.” She wasn’t sure if Vision was capable of pouting, but right now it sure seemed like he was.

 

A’isha chewed on her lip, she usually would just grab an apple and some coffee and head to her office, but Vision had been kind to her in the past. She felt a need to repay him for his kindness, so she reached into the back of one of the towel drawers and pulled out two aprons she and Clint has stashed there. “Well, most of the team won’t wake up for another two hours so let me give you a crash course on breakfast food.”  She set her notebook down on the counter, her plans for Clint's Jedi robe would have to wait.

 

Steve watched in amusement as Vision tied on the frilly apron, it reminded him of the kind women wore back in his day. Actually, from the looks of it the apron probably was from back in his day. It occurred to him that he had no idea who this girl was but he didn’t mind, she had access to the Avengers private kitchen and Vision seemed to know her so she obviously wasn’t a threat.

 

He watched from his perch at the breakfast bar as the unnamed girl showed Vision her recipe for perfect waffles. She pointed out to him what consistency the batter should be and turned down the waffle iron setting before dumping a small amount of the batter into the contraption.

 

“See?” She said, proudly popping the perfectly cooked waffle onto a plate. “Now you try.” 

 

Vision’s waffle came out only a little overcooked, A’isha proudly patted the android's shoulder as she poured more batter into the iron. Vision happily offered Steve the two cooked waffles, hoping his friend would enjoy them. Steve would never say no to free food, and the waffles smelled delicious, so he happily obliged to being Visions test dummy. 

 

Two hours later when the rest of the Avengers shuffled into the kitchen Steve was in a near food coma and waffles of all kinds covered the counters. Vision and A’isha had tried several different recipes, including chocolate chip, blueberry, banana, red velvet, cinnamon roll and many others. Steve had happily sampled all of them, declaring that the red velvet ones were his favorite, and just to humor him A’isha had slipped a stack to him drenched in cream cheese glaze with blue sprinkles.

 

“Did I die and go to heaven?” Clint asked, awe in his eyes as he glanced around the kitchen. 

 

“You taught Vision how to make waffles, nice one, Aiya.” Natasha said with a nod, heading straight for the cinnamon roll ones.

 

The rest of the Avengers hesitantly, made their own plates of waffles. Each of them seemingly overwhelmed by the options. Admittedly A’isha and Vision had gotten a little overly excited and made too many, but nobody had the heart to complain.

 

“These are really good, A’isha. Thank you.” Bruce said with a soft smile as he slipped another blueberry waffle onto his plate. 

 

“Thank Vision, I just supervised.” She said, holding up her hands and shooting a sweet smile towards the android who seemed to be about to explode from the praise.

 

“I’m such a proud father.” Tony cooed, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. 

 

“I would not have been able to it without Miss Attia.” Vision said, nodding in thanks to the Hijabi.

 

After several moments of everyone silently enjoying their food Tony spoke up again, a suspicious look on his face. “Wait, who are you?” He pointed his fork at A’isha and narrowed his eyes. The look from her boss would normally terrify her, but was ruined by the cinnamon bun frosting in his goatee. 

 

“I work for you?” 

 

“I have a lot of employees.” The billionaire said, rolling his eyes.

 

“I make you guys look good.” She answered, a smile twitching at her lips.

 

Tony sighed dramatically and ran a hand through his hair, “As if I need help to look this good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I totally do the 'bless you' when people do things other than sneeze...
> 
> I just want to thank you guys for always supporting me even when I disappear for ridiculous periods of time! I hope you all love this chapter, it's a bit of character development filler fluff.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave lots of feedback, comments, kudos, etc! It inspires me to keep writing and keeps me from getting discouraged as it tells me that you like what I'm creating!


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